


Big Brother is Always Right

by disaster_by_chance



Series: Capitalist Kings [6]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Awesamdude is Georgenotfound's Parent, Awesamdude is Tommyinnit's Parent, Creeper Hybrid Sam | Awesamdude, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Family Dynamics, Gen, Parent Sam | Awesamdude, Sam | Awesamdude is Alexis | Quackity's Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29875251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_by_chance/pseuds/disaster_by_chance
Summary: Quackity looks back on the moment Sam Nook first came into the world and realizes that he hates being the brother who's always right.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Sam | Awesamdude
Series: Capitalist Kings [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166960
Comments: 7
Kudos: 124





	Big Brother is Always Right

**Author's Note:**

> Quick notes before you read this!
> 
> Of course, this is about their characters and not the ccs themselves! And this is also an AU in where Sam is George, Quackity, and Tommy's father. It starts out when the kids are pretty young too, just a heads up! 
> 
> Just wanted to clear that before you started to read, just in case there's any confusion. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the read!

“What are you making, Dad?” 

Sam looked up from the items he was working with to find a tired-looking Quackity standing underneath the door frame of Sam’s workshop door, rubbing his eyes and in his pj’s. 

“Hey, Big Q, what are you doing up?” Sam frowned, standing up from his desk and walking over to his five-year-old son, “I thought you were sleeping.” 

“I was,” he muttered, looking up at his dad, “but then George started snoring.”

Sam chuckled quietly, “Guess I’ll have to get started on making your own room soon, huh?” 

“Is that what you’re working on right now?” Quackity asked, leaning over a bit to look over past his dad and into the workshop. 

“Not necessarily,” Sam admitted, “C’mon here, I’ll show you.” 

The creeper hybrid leaned down and gently picked the small child up, holding him with one hand as he walked back over to the desk. He didn’t want Quackity to walk all over the workshop floor barefooted and since Sam liked to work in the dark, he didn’t want Quackity to run into anything. 

Sam cleared a spot on the work table with his free hand before setting Quackity down on the table. The duck hybrid yawned and turned around, sitting with his legs crossed, facing a sewing machine and a large pile of fluff and scraps of fabric while Sam took a seat back in his chair. 

“What’s this?” Quackity asked, reaching out and grabbing a piece of green fabric and holding it up while squinting. 

“Some fabric, I’m making Tommy a gift,” Sam explained with a hum, smiling softly at the young hybrid. 

“A gift?” Quackity’s eyes widened, “Do I get one?” 

Sam laughed and lightly shook his head, “Quackity, you’ve already got your gift. Remember the voice changer you wanted?”

“Well, yeah but-” He frowned. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, to which Quackity responded by closing his mouth and deciding not to argue against it. 

“But?” Sam questioned. 

“But, uh, nothing,” Quackity quickly said, looking away, “it’s okay. You already give me enough gifts because you’re so general.” 

“Generous, Big Q,” Sam corrected with a nod, “but, thank you.” He smiled softly at his son before nodding towards some blueprints that were a little aways from them on the table, 

“I promise after I finish Tommy’s gift, I’ll get started on your new room. The blueprints are already made if you wanna give it a look.” 

Quackity gasped and dropped the fabric to opt for the blueprints, taking one and rolling it out, holding it up to his face, “Awesome!” 

Sam chuckled, letting him preoccupy himself with looking over the blueprint while he went back to work on Tommy’s gift. 

He knew he should’ve taken Quackity back to bed, making sure that he got enough sleep, but he thought he could make this one exception. It wasn’t often that he could spend time with his sons one on one, seeing as he had three and they were all fairly young, so he decided that he could have this time with him. 

“So what are you making anyway?” Quackity asked, peeking out from behind the blueprints to look over at his dad who was busy sewing away. It totally wasn't because he didn't understand what was on the blueprint. No, never, he could  _ totally _ read! He was just curious, that was all! 

“A plush,” Sam answered with a hum, setting down the needle and holding up a small brown raccoon plush for Quackity to see. “Do you think he’ll like it?” 

Quackity blinked, looking over the plush with his head tilted a bit. It was cute enough, a little brown raccoon with a green button-up and big green eyes. He liked it. 

“If he doesn’t like it, I’ll take it,” Quackity answered, putting down the blueprint and holding out a hand, wanting to see it closer. 

Sam laughed, hesitating to give Quackity the plush before deciding to hand it over. “Alright, if he doesn’t like it, you can have it, but be careful, okay?” He watched Quackity closely as he looked over the unfinished plush. 

“Okay!” He nodded, holding out in front of him with a wide smile. 

Sam smiled softly, leaning back in his chair as Quackity looked over the plush. There was half a chance that his son would end up tearing it back open or something, but Sam could always fix it, so he wasn’t too worried. 

“It looks like Tommy,” Quackity commented, poking one of its ears. 

Sam nodded, “It does, doesn’t it?” 

“Doesn’t look as dumb as him though,” Quackity muttered. 

“Quackity!” Sam scolded, “Don’t say that about your brother!” 

"What?" Quackity asked, looking over at his dad with his head tilted in confusion. He wasn't sure why he was getting scolded at, he was right after all. 

"It doesn't," he muttered, looking down at the plush, "Tommy has bright yellow hair but the raccoon doesn't." 

Sam sighed, reaching over and taking the plush from Quackity. "Yellow hair or not, Big Q, you shouldn't make fun of people. Especially when it's your brother."

"But George makes fun of me all the time!" Quackity complained with a pout, throwing his hands up as his tiny wings shuffled behind him. 

Sam frowned a little, knowing that those two tended to go at one another with insults, no matter how much he told them not to. 

"Well, next time that happens, let me know so that I can talk to George," Sam instructed. 

"Can I do it after I call him names, or will I be in trouble too?" Quackity asked, looking up at his dad.

"Oh my goodness," Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "No Big Q, you've got to be the bigger man, alright?" He smiled and ruffled his hair. 

Quackity grinned, letting his dad ruffle his hair and he proudly proclaimed, "Yeah! I'm a big man! I'm very tall!" 

Sam laughed, drawing his hand away, "That you are. That's why we call you Big Q."

"Yeah! I'm going to be taller than you someday!" Quackity announced loudly, standing up on the table. 

"Okay, okay," Sam held out his hands, ready to catch Quackity in case he fell, "be careful now. Don't fall." 

"I won't," Quackity assured with a wide grin. 

"Alright, well be a little quieter, yeah?" He put a finger to his lips, making the 'silent' motion, "We don't want to wake Tommy or George, do we?" 

"No," Quackity spoke in a quiet whisper, shaking his head as he quickly sat back down. 

He knew it would be impossible to wake George, but he didn’t want to wake Tommy. Then the boy would just cry and his dad’s attention would be on his brother rather than him. The only reason why he’d gone to see his dad was that, yes, George was snoring, but also because he hadn’t been able to spend time with his dad like this. 

He enjoyed this kind of time, though he would never admit it or ask for more times like this. To him, it was best to just not say anything and take the opportunities when they presented themselves to him. He may have been young, but he was perfectly careful of understanding how his dad functioned on working on projects and how Tommy, right now, was the first priority. 

Quackity loved his baby brother, as loud and annoying as he could be sometimes, so he didn’t mind it when Sam made gifts for him. He didn’t mind it when Sam spent a lot of time with Tommy. He didn’t mind it when Sam paid more attention to him. He didn’t mind it at all. 

But every now and then, he craved these little one on one interactions with his father. So no crying Tommy on account for Quackity’s loud voice was going to ruin that for him. 

“I’ll be quiet now,” Quackity whispered, putting a finger over his mouth as Sam had done. He crossed his legs back up and leaned forward, looking over the pile of fabric scraps at the plush that laid on the desk. 

“Good idea,” Sam smiled with a nod. He didn’t want to have to deal with a crying Tommy or anything of the sort. It was mainly why he was making the plush for the raccoon hybrid. He hoped that with this, the boy might sleep better at night or something. He hoped the plush gave him some peace of mind. 

Quackity tapped his hands on his legs, making small, quiet noises with his mouth as he watched Sam work on sewing the plush’s legs, two brown stubs filled with fluffy white stuffing. 

After a bit, he moved his gaze from the plush to his father, examining him closely. Whenever he got the chance, he loved to watch his father work. The concentration on his face and the dedication in his hands really showed how much he enjoyed building and crafting, and Quackity loved it. He loved the fact that his father enjoyed something so much and would often share in that enjoyment in the little gifts he gave to Quackity and his brothers often. He wished that someday he would be dedicated to something as much as his father was dedicated to his craft. 

“Why a raccoon?” He asked, wanting to engage in conversation. 

Sam glanced over at Quackity for a second before looking back at the plush, “Oh, well, I just thought Tommy would enjoy it.”

“I would’ve asked for a duck,” Quackity said, matter-of-factly, as if he believed that Tommy would want what he wanted since they were brothers and all. 

Sam chuckled quietly at this, nodding slowly, “Mmh, I thought so. But your brother is part raccoon like you’re part duck.” he turned and lightly poked Quackity in the stomach, making his son giggle, “So it made sense to make his plush a raccoon.” 

“Oh, okay,” Quackity muttered, nodding in understanding. He guessed that would make sense. 

He waited for a few seconds before scooting closer to his dad, one leg hanging off the side of the table as the other stayed folded in, his hands in the pile of fabric scraps, “What’s its name?” 

“Well, that’ll be up to Tommy,” Sam replied, smiling softly as he began to work on getting the right leg sewn on. “It’s his plush, so he’ll name it.” 

“He should name it something funny,” Quackity decided, watching as the leg got sewn on, “Like George or something.” 

“Quackity,” Sam’s voice was a little stern, but his expression read amusement at his son’s little comments about his older brother. 

Quackity quickly shut his mouth and looked up at Sam with wide eyes. 

Sam just sighed and moved on to the plush, finishing up with the leg as Quackity watched. 

From there, Quackity remained silent, just enjoying his father’s company as he watched him work. He didn’t really have anything else to say and since it was rather late, he didn’t have enough energy to engage in a conversation anyways. Every now and then he would nod off, closing his eyes slowly, before he would suddenly wake up, blinking several times as he did so.

Once in a while, Sam would glance over at Quackity and find him either staring intensely at the plush, trying to stay awake, or he would be dozing off with his head down. Sam knew that he should take the hybrid to bed soon, but he enjoyed having the quiet company, knowing that a quiet Quackity was something he shouldn’t take for granted. It was a rare thing, and he was going to enjoy it while it lasted. 

Sam just made sure that his son didn’t fall asleep and off the table while he worked. He was always ready to catch Quackity if that was the case but decided it would be easier if Quackity was in a safer position. 

So, when Quackity had nodded off for the fifth time, Sam put down the plush and reached over to Quackity. He gently lifted the boy up and put him in his lap, letting him lean on his chest, head on his shoulder, as he started to work again. Like this, Sam could assure the boy wouldn’t fall. 

The movement had woken Quackity though, but he didn’t protest or say anything. Instead, he remained quiet, comfortable in his position. He wrapped his arms around his dad and buried his face in his chest, smiling softly. 

His dad smelled like gunpowder and pumpkin pie, as always, but he mostly smelled like home. It was comforting for Quackity, and he was grateful that George had been snoring so that he’d have this opportunity to be with his dad. 

Sam worked quietly, careful not to create too much movement for Quackity’s sake. For the time being, he was just putting the finishing touches on the plush. He was always a perfectionist, someone with an eye for aesthetic, so of course this plush for his son needed to be the best it could be. 

At the sound of his father’s quiet humming, Quackity looked up at his father with a small yawn. He smiled happily at the sound, not recognizing the tune, but loving it all the same before he turned his head a bit so he could watch him work again. 

He watched him for the next ten minutes, forcing himself to stay awake until Sam finally put the plush down and let out a satisfied sigh. 

He was finished. 

“Alright, Big Q,” Sam muttered, looking down and seeing he was still awake, “time for bed.” 

Quackity looked away from the plush to look at his father with a small frown. “Aww, already?” he asked with a pout. 

“Mmh, yes,” he nodded, “you’ve stayed up long enough.” He wrapped his arms around him and hoisted him up to his shoulder while he got off his chair.  “I’m sure George has stopped snoring by now,” Sam chuckled as he started to walk out of the workshop. 

Quackity didn’t respond, looking past Sam’s shoulder as he rested his head there, his hand at the back of his father’s neck, absent minding playing with the green hair. 

He looked at the small plush, laying on the table, with its Hawaiian shirt with leaves, raccoon features, and big green eyes with a small smile. 

He knew Tommy would love it. 

...

Sighing, Quackity looked at the raccoon bot waiting at the front of the hotel from afar. Waiting, waiting as it had been for the past few days. 

Waiting, and waiting for someone who wasn’t coming back any time soon. 

Quackity’s shaking hands clenched into fists as new tears formed in his eyes, slowly slipping down his cheeks as he looked away from the robot, his eyesight blurry from the tears and scar over his eye. 

He hated being the brother who was always right. 

Tommy, indeed, loved it. 

And it, in return, loved Tommy. 


End file.
